


rental girlfriend

by mangorat7



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Sakusa is in a position of power over Reader-chan, Vaginal Fingering, Yandere Sakusa Kiyoomi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangorat7/pseuds/mangorat7
Summary: You are a part-time employee for Ideal Love, a company that rents out people as romantic partners. Sakusa Kiyoomi, Outside Hitter for MSBY Black Jackals, is your #1 client. He’s also your only client. He purchases all of your time slots one month at a time, always pays in advance, and never does anything inappropriate ever - he’s never even kissed you.It’s the same routine each week until one day it’s not.
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 114





	1. can’t say no, no, i can’t say no

**Author's Note:**

> I hit a mild writer block for Good Luck! and wanted to try my hand at some smut. Plot crept in and I guess this will be my second series. I'm not sure how well I did with Kiyoomi's characterization, he is a bit yandere here but I do look forward to seeing how he's received - constructive criticism is much appreciated!
> 
> As ever, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy.

You’ve barely got a foot through the door when Kiyoomi is in front of you. He has no face mask on today and seems agitated, shifting his weight with an intense almost haunted look in his eyes. You’ve seen him like this before, though usually only after a particularly bad training session or lost volleyball game. Your hands aren’t quite dry from the hand sanitizer that you keep in your travel bag and always apply before you even touch the door to Kiyoomi’s high-rise apartment. With your elbow, you shut the door behind you.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” you ask - gently,  _ lovingly  _ \- allowing worry to slip into your voice and reach your eyes. This is what he wants from you - what he expects from you - because that’s what he asked for in the request form he submitted to your boss all those months ago.

_ A single woman between the age of nineteen and twenty-two who enjoys cooking and cleaning. Preferably discreet, calm, patient, and caring. Must have a well-groomed appearance and be available for overnight stays at least once a week in the Tokyo metropolitan area. _

“Nothing,” Kiyoomi replies listlessly, watching as you remove your shoes and drop your bag nearby. You can see the muscle in his arm twitch and allow him to step closer to you, invading your personal space. “Did you sanitize your hands?”

“Of course,” you reply easily. It's a habit now when it comes to these meetings with Sakusa Kiyoomi. You take a private cab from your tiny apartment and arrive exactly at noon on Friday. You only ever bring a light travel bag with you, containing only your ID, cell phone and its charger.

_ You won’t need to bring anything else, _ you remember him telling you the day you met.  _ I’ll buy you anything you’ll ever need or ever want. Clothes, electronics, soap, shampoo, food, alcohol, anything you want - I’ll get it for you. You won’t ever need anything else when you’re here with me. _

“Can I touch you?” you ask, tilting your head in a way you know he thinks is cute. “You seem upset. I wanna hold your hand.”

You can see and almost hear him think - it’s always like this at first. He takes time to wind down and settle in. After a beat, he nods, and you take a pale hand into your own. Carefully, you bring it to your lips, brushing his knuckles against them. Knuckle kisses are fine, he told you once that it feels like there are less germs there. You rub a thumb slowly over the freshly kissed skin and wait patiently until he laces his fingers with yours.

“Let’s sit down,” he says, though he’s already tugging you both toward the large couch in the living room. You follow and let your eyes wander the room. His home is impressive as always - large glass windows with a view of the city below, clean white furniture with minimal decorations, bright white lights and the lingering smell of bleach and disinfectant.

Kiyoomi sits first and then arranges you next to him, pulling on your legs until your thigh is touching his own. He still hasn’t let go of your hand. From the corner of your eye, you can see him watching. Thinking. He’s still tense.

“When you’re ready,” you say softly, “you can tell me what’s bothering you. I won’t push.”

The next few minutes pass in comfortable silence, the sun coming through the window warming your face and slowing your breathing. Beside you, Kiyoomi seems to be allowing himself to relax, if only slightly. It’s not unusual for you to sit with him for a while before you start your regular tasks. Kiyoomi is an easy contract, with a majority of your time being spent preparing meals and cleaning, and after that it’s non-sexual touching. Knuckle kissing is the most intimacy you ever expect to happen in the apartment.

It’s not your job to know why Sakusa Kiyoomi requires you to sanitize your hands when you enter his home or why he washes his hands repeatedly or checks the locks four times and wipes down every door handle twice a day. Your job is just to do what he wants you to when he wants you to in the way he’s told you to. Your job is to please.

Your contract is written down as a rental girlfriend but for the first month, you were more of a maid - only cooking and cleaning and speaking briefly about life outside of the apartment. It wasn’t until Kiyoomi asked you to watch volleyball videos with you that the ‘girlfriend’ aspect of the contract came into play. If you are being frank, playing the part of Kiyoomi’s girlfriend is easy. You cook, you clean, you ask to hold his hand when you feel like it and you’re not supposed to be upset when he says no, you let him wash his hands and shower as many times as he wants without telling him otherwise, you let him approach you on his terms and you never get angry when he doesn’t want to spend time with you. You always come when you’re called.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you look to Kiyoomi for approval before you answer. He nods and you answer, realizing it’s only an alarm. 12:30. Time to start preparing for lunch. You move to stand but Kiyoomi doesn’t let go of your hand. You sit back down. This is unusual.

“Is there something I can do to help you?” you ask, squeezing his hand. Something must really be upsetting him. “Tell me, if you’re comfortable. You know that. I’m always here for you.”

He squeezes back. Hard. “Your boss called me.”

“Okay,” you reply, taking what he gives you, though it does start to hurt. “What did she say?” You ask like you don’t already know the answer and Kiyoomi shoots you a look that says as much.

“You’re leaving Ideal Love.”

“I am. In three months.”

“Why?”

“I was offered a job in California. Japanese teacher for high schoolers. The program I’m going through will pay for my airfare and my rent until I get settled.”

“You’d be leaving me.”

“Yes,” you say simply and he lets go of your hand. You make a soft noise. “Kiyoomi... Did you think I would do this kind of work forever?”

“Of course not,” he snaps, “but I thought that you would at least stay with me.” He stands up roughly, jostling you as he goes. He runs a hand through his hair. He’s very handsome, Sakusa Kiyoomi, with his soft wavy hair, intelligent eyes, and tall athletic build.

You wonder why he doesn’t have a real girlfriend.

“What-” Kiyoomi starts and then sighs long and deep before turning to you with sharp eyes, “what can I do to make you stay? You can quit working for Ideal Love but I want you to stay with me.”

Your face is the perfect mask of composure but the world seems fuzzy and out of focus. All you can hear is your heart beating in your ears. Something... something feels wrong. Kiyoomi looks at you and for once, you’re not sure what you see. Something  _ is _ wrong.

“Kiyoomi-”

His lips are on yours before you can utter another word, warm and unexpectedly soft. His hands are on you, one squeezing the back of your neck while the other moves to cup your cheek. Kiyoomi’s mouth sweeps over your own with easy gentleness, briefly sucking on your bottom lip before he draws back and lets out a quiet growl that sets a fire in your belly.

“What the fuck,” you exhale and even you can hear the astonishment dripping from every word.

He laughs, low and sweet, before settling in your lap. He’s heavier than you and knows it, with long arms that snake around your head and strong legs that press against your thighs, trapping you under him.

“Don’t swear,” he says without any true heat, “I can’t have my girlfriend swearing during games.”

“I’m not your girlfriend,” you say, though you can’t help but laugh lightly and shake your head, “and you aren’t my boyfriend.” He is so close to you, his body so warm against yours and in your space - you can smell the soap he uses and his underlying natural scent. It’s intoxicating and your whole body lights up, the world spinning.

“I am,” Kiyoomi insists, laughing with you and it’s a lovely sound. You’re hopeless as he presses his forehead against yours, soft curls pressing into your vision. He whispers the next words like they’re something precious, “Let me prove it.”

“Let me be good for you,” he continues, “You’re always so good for me, so good and obedient. Let me show you how good I can be for you.”

Your throat shifts and it’s hard to catch your breath - it feels like you’re being smothered. You’re sure that your heart is beating so fast and so loud that he can hear it crashing against your ribcage. Is this really what you want?

Kiyoomi kisses you again - softly, sweetly,  _ lovingly  _ \- and you let him.

“Show me,” you breathe out. The hands that have been so uselessly limp at your sides come to life, one clutching at a bicep while the other slides underneath the band of his pants to caress at the angled curve of his hip. He groans into your neck, writhing against you.

“I’ll be so good to you,” he pants in your ears, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll give you everything, I’ll give you the world if you ask for it. I’ll be so good to you and you’ll be so good for me. I’ll never let you go.”

“I’ll never let you go,” he repeats, the words sweet and heavy on his tongue. He kisses you and, again, you let him.

“I know,” you say softly, your eyelids fluttering shut, “I know.”

  
  
  
  


_ the debt i owe, gotta sell my soul _

_ ‘cause i can’t say no, no, i can’t say no _

_ then my limbs all froze and my eyes won’t close _

_ and i can’t say no, i can’t say no _


	2. love me love me love me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is not your boyfriend and you are not his girlfriend - but in this apartment, within these walls, you might as well be.

The migration to the bedroom is surprisingly natural. Kiyoomi, still perched on your lap, kisses you breathless on the couch. He’s amazing, delivering soft wet touches that light up your insides and draw sweet noises out of you. He lets out a dangerously alluring moan when you roll your hips against him and begin to tug on his shirt - you want to see his skin, feel it against yours. It’s almost crazy to think that you’ve never even been this close to him before and the lure of forbidden fruit is impossible to resist.

“Kiyoomi,” you pout when he takes his hands into your own, placing them down to your sides once again. He laughs and you can feel your whole body flush. It’s dangerous for him to be that attractive.

“Soon,” he says and then purrs out your name. There must be something wrong with you to find the sound of his voice curling around the vowels of your name so inviting. You shudder and he doesn’t miss it. “Let’s lay down,” he offers, though once again he’s already tugging you upward and toward the bedroom.

You’re not a virgin and you haven’t been for a long time but there’s something about seeing Kiyoomi’s tall frame in front of you, leading you down a long hallway that makes you blush and giggle like it’s your first time all over again. He kisses you again before sliding open the bedroom door and the twist in your stomach catches you by surprise. You’re no stranger to this place but it feels completely different knowing that you’re going to be fucked on sheets that you’ve washed with hospital grade disinfectant.

That thought grounds you and you hesitate, almost taking a step back. Kiyoomi notices, having already taken off his shirt. He sits at the edge of the king-sized bed and looks up at you quizzically. It’s a strange angle, you think, you’re not used to looking down at him.

“What are we doing?” you ask, making a point not to look at the absurdly handsome shirtless man in front of you. You’re not even sure if the question is for him but he answers you anyway with a warm hand on your wrist, pulling you close so it’s you who are on his lap. He laves kisses on your neck, sucking occasionally and decorating your skin in what you are sure will be bruises tomorrow morning. You shudder at the thought of being marked, of being claimed, and don’t fight when he strips you of your top.

“I’m going to take care of you,” Kiyoomi says matter-of-factly, as if he’s not pressing words into the crook of your neck with hands groping your naked back, slowly traveling lower. “I’m going to eat out your pussy and taste you when you cum for me.”

“K-Kiyoomi,” you exclaim, the sound choked out and embarrassed, “you- you can’t just say things like that!”

“Why not?” he murmurs against your hair, breathing in your scent and thumbing at the bra strap resting on your shoulder, “it’s the truth.” He slides it down, leaving only bare shoulder skin in its wake. It’s hard to stay focused with lust filling you by the second, threatening to overtake any logic that you have left in you. When he removes your bra, you shiver at the sight of his eyes drinking you in and filling with heavy need.

You arch under him as he thumbs your nipples with feather-like touches that drive you wild. Gasping, you ask breathlessly- “Y-you know I’m not a virgin, right?”

He should - it was written on your employee profile.

Sakusa Kiyoomi laughs and it’s goddamn beautiful. “I know. That doesn’t matter. All those people, they came before me, before you had even met me. You’re mine now and there’s no one else who is ever going to be with you after.”

“You don’t know that,” you protest weakly even as he re-arranges you both. You end up laying on your back, legs dangling off of the edge of the bed. There’s something vulnerable and terribly arousing about this position and it takes everything you have left in you not to throw your arms over your eyes.

“Of course I do,” he says easily, like he’s reading off the morning weather, “you’re my girlfriend and someday you’ll be my wife.” Possession seeps into every word but you find it hard to even care, letting out a content sigh when he kisses you deeply and removes your pants. He looks down at you, watching with darkened eyes, and you can’t help but glow under his gaze. You wonder what you must look like, your hair fanned out around you, lips swollen from being thoroughly kissed, eyes lidded and full of want.

It catches you off-guard when he smiles, moves down your body in a fluid motion and without another word, takes his broad tongue and licks your most private place. Even through the thin material of your underwear, the pressure and heat make you squirm.

“Kiyoomi-!” you cry out and shout again when he pushes aside fabric to allow his long fingers to stroke your clit. It’s hard and swollen under his touch, electricity racing through your entire being with every smooth movement he makes from your dampened opening to your nub.

“You’re so wet,” he observes and chuckles when you throw your hands over your eyes. “Can you hear it? Your pussy is so wet for me, making such lewd sounds even though I’vebarely even touched you.”

You nod wordlessly, refusing to take your hands away from your face. You can’t help but twitch under his attention, letting out little gasps and moans when it’s especially pleasurable.

“What a good girl,” Kiyoomi hums and you whimper uselessly. Does he know what he’s doing to do, how much he’s wrecking you just by speaking? He taps your thigh and you raise your hips up so that he can slide your panties off.

“Don’t look,” you say helplessly when you see him leering, “‘s embarrassing, Kiyoomi.” He laughs and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, begging to be filled. “Kiyoomi...” you whine, hips thrusting, “more. I want _more._ ”

“Be patient,” he replies and kisses your inner thigh. “My little girlfriend, so sweet and needy, begging for her aching cunt to be filled.”

When he places his lips on your bare skin, you can’t help but writhe in pleasure. Strong hands hold down your thighs, making you unable to do anything else but squirm in place and take what he gives you. Kiyoomi licks and sucks at your core, occasionally moving his skilled tongue to your sensitive pearl. It’s only when you are soaking wet that he pushes a finger into you, slowly and carefully, watching your face for any discomfort.

“Taking me so well, babygirl,” he says, thrusting gently, “so slick for me, so wet.”

“More,” you say, crying out as you clench around him, “ _more,_ Kiyoomi, give me more, I can take it.”

He does what you ask, slipping in more fingers and suckling at your nub. You groan, thrusting back against his hand and arching when his tongue does something clever. He continues to speak into your skin, he sings praises of how delicious you taste, tells you how hot you are grinding desperately into his hand, how he’s dreamt of this forever ago, about how much he can’t wait to be with you tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that, forever and ever and _ever_.

His fingers curl wonderfully inside of you and his tongue dances against your clit _just so_ , your whole body shuddering around him in anticipation and your hips are moving without your consent, chasing down your orgasm like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

He tells you he loves you and just like that, you’re undone. 

“Don’t go to California,” Kiyoomi says, delicately pulling soaked fingers from your core, “you can quit working at Ideal Love, you don’t ever have to work again if you don’t want to. Just stay with me.”

You don’t want to hear this - you don’t want to hear any of this. He is not your boyfriend and you are not his girlfriend - but in this apartment, within these walls, you might as well be. You remember looking at his request form - _preferably discreet, calm, patient, and caring_ \- and you remember laughing so hard you nearly cried because that woman is not who you are but you needed the money, you needed this job. It was easy, it was so easy, to cook and to clean and to pretend to care about this wildly handsome man that maybe you forgot that you were pretending in the first place.

“Stop talking,” you pant, grabbing a fistful of his hair, “just stop talking and fuck me.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says and you arch when he enters you, your body opening and fluttering around him, no pain only pleasure. “You’re so beautiful, so good for me.”

You love this man and you hate what you’ve become because of it.

_love me. love me. love me, i’ll give you everything._

_i’ll have you, i’ll have you bear everything for me._

_it’s not enough, you’re not enough. i won’t let you go._

_i’m so sorry._


End file.
